


Getting Back to Being a Woman

by clio_jlh



Category: All About Eve (1950)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21836557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio_jlh/pseuds/clio_jlh
Summary: Karen knew enough not to go to New Haven.Never let it be said that Margo Channing doesn't know how to take care of her friends.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Getting Back to Being a Woman

"Why don't _you_ take a job with Max?" 

Karen blinked at the change of subject. Hadn't she and Margo just been talking—well, _not_ talking about Eve? "What job?"

"The one I asked him to offer Eve," she replied. Margo was arranging flowers in her living room, something she never would have done before _Footsteps on the Ceiling._ Certainly not in the middle of the afternoon. 

But then, they were all different since _Footsteps._

"You say you want to help me find my next part," she continued. "Some nice middle-aged married lady."

Karen sat up at that. "A grown woman who gives them all hell, thank you very much. You couldn't play nice if you tried."

"And I wouldn't try," Margo replied, chuckling. 

"There are plenty of parts—big, modern parts—for a woman with experience. Even if _some_ writers seem to be obsessed with young girls, fictional or otherwise."

"I hate men," Margo agreed. 

"Look at that Mr. Williams. He's done just fine by—well, you know." Jessica Tandy's name was not to be mentioned, not if Margo was to stay in her good mood even if she wasn't working. 

"That's what I'm saying. A producer's office is awash with scripts—good, bad, and indifferent. With Max, they're bound to mostly be indifferent, but if anyone could separate the wheat from the chaff I'm sure it's you."

"But I don't have any kind of talent—"

"Don't give me that tired, self-deprecating line. Besides, a producer doesn't require talent, just discernment."

"Which I have."

"Which you very much have. Just something to think about, to occupy your days. You're not nearly as good at brooding as I am. At least I managed to ruin a party over it. You're just sitting in my house or yours suffering in tasteful silence. You're not even painting anymore."

Karen thought of New Haven, where she was not, and sighed. "I hate men."

"I think we should go out tonight," Margo said, sitting next to her. "A little stale air will do you good."

"Oh, I don't know if I can—"

"Let 'em talk! They're going to, anyway. Put on your red dress and give them all hell."

A clearing of a throat—Birdie, on the steps above the living room. "If I may say so, Mrs. Richards, it'd be the best thing for you." 

Margo threw her hands out in triumph. "See? Birdie's always right."

"All right," Karen said, sitting up. "I'll just run home and meet you."

"No, no, no, you won't get out of this that easily. Birdie's happy to run to your place and get whatever you need, aren't you, Birdie?"

"You bet I am," she said.

"We can dress together, like roommates. I'm sure you did plenty of that at Radcliffe. Let me play at being a co-ed."

Karen smiled, though she didn't much feel like it. "You've got me beat," she said. "We're going out."

"That's the spirit," Margo replied.

* * *

They started with cocktails at a new hotel that was more than happy to roll out the red carpet service for Margo Channing and Mrs. Lloyd Richards. Stuffed with olives and little cheese crackers, they moved on to one night club and the next, some Karen had been to before and some she hadn't. Any hesitation Karen might have had about being two unaccompanied women vanished in the glare of Margo's star power, which she turned on for every maître d' in town, seemingly. They saw Miss Caswell out and about, wooing a television man, and did their part to talk her up. 

At last they found themselves back at The Cub Room, probably because even Margo had had enough of being the center of attention. The whirl of gaiety had helped Karen, as Margo had said it would—she'd forgotten all about New Haven for a few hours. She'd even flirted with a few forward young men here and there. 

Feeling hungry for the first time in weeks, she ordered a chop. 

Margo smiled. "There she is."

"Who?" Karen asked, looking around the room. 

"My friend," Margo said. "She's been a little bit lost for a while, but I think she's finding her way back." 

Karen nodded. "Thanks to you."

"Nothing you haven't done for me countless times, only with more breaking of furniture along the way."

"You always exaggerate so, Margo. It was never furniture," Karen replied. "Maybe a vase or two." 

Margo laughed then, and Karen felt a sudden swelling, something she hadn't in some time. Since Radcliffe, maybe. 

In the cab home, Margo said, "Birdie brought over your nightie, by the way. You're staying with me tonight, and Birdie will soothe our hangovers in the morning as only she knows how." 

"I'd like that," Karen said, taking Margo's hand. She'd done that countless times, too, but with a somewhat different intent. 

Margo raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, not a word until they were back in her home, in her bedroom again. Karen's nightgown and slippers were at the foot of the bed, next to Margo's. 

"I'm sleeping here?"

"If you like," Margo said. "The guest room is made up, too."

"This is cozier," Karen replied, slipping off her heels. "After all, Bill asked me to take care of you while he's away."

"You're already doing a better job than the kid. You haven't made a pass at Bill, at least."

Karen stepped closer, right into Margo's personal space. "Not at him, no."

There were those raised eyebrows again. "So it's true, what they say about Radcliffe girls."

"Women," Karen said, "and they say that about Smith women, actually. But I've learned a thing or two."

"And I've studied at the knee of many a chorus girl in my time," Margo said. 

"Knowledge all over," Karen replied, and she couldn't quite decide if she'd rather look Margo in the eye, or stare openly at her mouth now that she could. 

"Well here's one thing I do know," Margo said. 

"Hmm?"

"At some point one of us has to stop talking and start kissing."

"Or both of us," Karen replied, and did.

* * *

The rest of the week was a pleasant blur of shopping (if she was going to suffer for this play she was damn well going to get something out of it) and cocktails (never had she realized how many in their wider circles were interested in Karen, not just Mrs Lloyd Richards). She also went to see Max, who knew an opportunity when he saw one, and left with a pile of scripts and a promise of a storage closet being converted into a little office for her.

Of course there was also sex, much more than she’d been having lately, and not just because she was trying to keep up with Margo’s interrupted honeymoon libido. Between that and the scripts it was as though her very body was remembering Karen the Radcliffe girl, and who she might have been had she not met Lloyd. She'd been so young, then. Maybe she could get back on that other path now. 

But all good things must come to an end, and so when Bill came home he found them sitting together on the deck, enjoying the hint of early spring warmth. 

"Slacks and sweaters and no makeup? That's a fine welcome home," Bill said, but his eyes were twinkling. 

"Yes, that roast in the oven and the chocolate cake on the counter are for my new lover," Margo replied. 

"I'll remember to thank Birdie later," he said, giving his bride a kiss and settling on the chaise next to her. "Hello, Karen."

He didn't ask how she was; of anyone he probably knew best. "Hello, Bill. How was New Haven?"

Bill glanced at Margo, but before she could put in a word Karen spoke again. 

"No kid gloves, not now," she said. "I'd rather hear all the gossip direct, from you."

On Margo's nod, Bill said, "What would you like to know?" 

"Start with the play," Karen said. "That's the important part." 

"You went to enough rehearsals to know," he said. "Eve was spectacular. She'll probably get a Tony."

"Especially with Addison in her back pocket," Margo said, pulling a cigarette out of a nearby case. 

Bill lit it for her without looking. "Not back pocket any more. They're getting married."

"What?" Karen shouted. 

Even Margo looked surprised. "I didn't peg Addison for the marrying type. Though I suppose marrying an actress leaves your evenings free for sweeping the nightclubs for new talent."

"I hadn't thought of that," Bill said. 

Margo smiled at him. "Of course you didn't." Then she glanced at Karen. "And Lloyd?"

Bill turned back to Karen then, with a gentle expression. "She threw him over. I wasn't going to tell you but—"

"I'm glad you did," Margo said. "That way when he comes crawling back he can't claim more credit than is due."

Karen wanted to smile at Margo's ire, easier to take than Bill's sympathy, and it helped her regain her voice. "I'm glad too, Bill. I'd rather hear it from you. At least I know it's the truth." 

"I'm sure he's at your place, waiting for you," Bill said. "In fact, I'm surprised to see you here. He was a few hours ahead of me—he left New Haven early this morning."

"I'll bet," Margo said. "At least he didn't come looking around here." 

"Mr. Richards has been calling all morning," said Birdie from where she leaned against the doorway. "I didn't figure anyone wanted to talk to him, so I said you were out."

Bill smiled and turned to Margo. "An excellent woman like that, and you try to take credit for her pot roast?" 

"My welcome will be of a different nature," Margo said, smiling back. "But can we agree that Karen is to stay just as long as she likes?"

"One hundred percent," Bill said. 

Karen stood. "No, it's my home, too. His absence pushed me out of it, but I'll be damned if his presence does."

"That's my girl," Margo said, standing and putting an arm on her shoulder. "But you're sure? I meant what I said. You have a room here."

"Thanks, Margo. For that, and everything else, too. I was feeling pretty low but you put me back on my feet."

"You did that yourself. I just gave you a place to do it."

She'd done much more and they both knew it, but Karen left it at that. "Thanks again, Bill."

"Whatever I can do. He put you through the wringer. If it helps at all, he's been through one, too, if of his own making." 

"We'll see about that," Karen replied.

* * *

When Karen opened the door, Lloyd was standing near the fire, talking on the telephone. "Oh, here she is now. Yes, well, thanks so much." He hung up. 

"Hello," Karen said, putting her case near the stairs. 

"You weren't here when I got home," he said, walking toward her. "I'm afraid I made a nuisance of myself calling around town looking for you." 

Karen let him take her coat, and took her time pulling off her gloves. "You knew where I was."

"I heard that you and Margo have been painting the town." 

Margo had been right—he was going to try to bluff it out. "Not what you expected when you left the wives at home, I suppose. Bill thought it was funny. 'While the cat's away,' he said."

Lloyd looked stricken, and sat down in his chair. "I don't feel much like a cat right now. I suppose Bill told you everything?" 

"Every last bit." 

"Come, sit down. I'm sure we can talk this out." 

"I'm sure we can, but I'll stay standing, thanks. We both know you're not here of your own volition, so if you want to stay, there are some conditions."

"I do want to be here, Karen. I was … I was dazzled. I can't explain it. It was inexcusable."

"Yes, it was. And while you were gone—in spirit, if not in body—I realized that I needed something to do with my nights, too. So while you and Bill are working on getting _Footsteps_ up on Broadway, I'll be working in Max's office, looking for a new play for Margo." 

"A new play? But I—"

"You can't. Not the kind of part she should play now. Not until you show some interest in the lives of women above the age of twenty-seven."

"I deserve that. And you think you can find it?"

Karen shrugged, her hands in her pockets. "Margo thinks so. I've learned quite a lot from you, one way or another. And once I find that play, I'm going to produce it—with Max, hopefully, but without if necessary."

"So I'm to have a working woman for a wife," he said, just a hint of displeasure in his voice. 

"You always have, but my work used to be you."

He cocked his head. "And now it's Margo?"

"No, Lloyd. Now it's me. I'm capable. I was a college girl." She paused. "I might even finish my degree, while I'm at it." 

"You've always been capable of whatever you put your mind too."

"Except one thing."

They were both quiet for a long moment, not looking at each other, and Karen was regretting her honesty when Lloyd said, "It wasn't you."

"All right," she replied, and felt just a little more hopeful.

"I suppose I'm to stay in the guest room?"

"You have your own bed. No reason not to use it." She looked him in the eye. "But if you want to visit mine, know that you're there to please me, and not the other way around."

He sat up straighter. "So you want me to prove myself to you? Because I can do that, Karen. I want to."

Wasn't it just like a man, to need a challenge to rise to? "You can start by taking a very long, very hot shower, and then bringing every article of clothing you wore for her directly to the Goodwill."

As he rose and went to the stair she brought her satchel over to her chair, and settled in. 

"What is that?" he asked.

"I have some scripts to read before I go back to the office tomorrow."

"I see. What about dinner?"

"I'm sure we can have something sent up." 

"Karen?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

She looked up then. "I love you, too. If I didn't we would have had a very different conversation just now."

"And … I'm sorry."

"I know," she replied, and smiled brightly. "Off you go."

He nodded, and finally made his way upstairs. 

Karen knew herself, knew that once the anger and fear and hurt of the past few months had run out that she'd be back to her usual amiable demeanor. Or, maybe one or two of these changes—other than the job—would be permanent. 

The phone rang then—Margo. "I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I think it's going well, so far. He's in the shower but I'll tell you all about it later. Lunch tomorrow?"

"Married working ladies have time for lunch with friends?" Margo teased.

Karen laughed, feeling suddenly lighter than she had in weeks. "Margo, I'll always have time for you."


End file.
